


Warped

by WalkingonFirex



Category: Bandom, Mayday Parade (Band)
Genre: Bands, Character Death, Gen, Gore, Murder, Mystery, Violence, alternative, vans warped tour - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:56:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkingonFirex/pseuds/WalkingonFirex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mayday Parade is excited to be kicking off the 2015 Vans Warped Tour until the bodies of various lead singers begin popping up all over the venues. Derek Sanders makes it his mission to figure out what's going on. But the killer is much more twisted and closer to Derek than he would have ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warped

For over two hours, detectives had been doing their absolute best to ward off hysterical, sobbing, screeching teenagers. After all, a gruesome murder scene wasn’t exactly the best place for a hoard of kids to be.

A rage kill was what the coroner had used to describe the body. A knife was the weapon, a butcher knife, he’d guessed, by the way that the stab wounds were shaped. Deep, quick puncture wounds were present all along the torso, along with a few clumsy cuts on the arms, thighs, neck, and even a few on the face. After the assailant had somewhat gotten control of his anger, he’d taken careful steps to ensure that the victim wasn’t recognizable. Fingers and toes were arranged in a neat, straight line along the feet. Two eyeballs were perched in one palm, sliced perfectly in half. The coroner had never seen anything like it, describing them looking like an open clamshell. _Disgusting._ But one would be wrong to assume that this was where the atrocities ended. 

The victim’s once beloved shoulder-length dark brown hair had been gracelessly severed off, blood clotting up the ends. He was completely naked and it was clear that the murderer had castrated him. A couple better words for the way that his manhood had been maimed would have to have been diced or minced. Worst of all, the stomach had been viciously ripped open and his entrails were open for everyone to see.

Never again would he sing. His tongue had been cut out and placed in his other palm, chopped in tiny pink pieces. Beside him sat his lips, red and bloodied. His teeth were the only visible thing in his mouth and it was a disgusting sight to see. Many people had vomited at the mere sight of the body. 

No one, at least not yet, could put their finger on who would want to kill Kellin Quinn. He was the lead singer of one of the most popular post-hardcore bands at the time, Sleeping With Sirens, had recently gotten married, and become the father to a little girl. He and his band were ready to begin another Warped Tour, too. However, thanks to a vicious, unnamed killer, his fans would never see him sing another song. 

***

It was after three am before the lead singer of Mayday Parade, Derek Sanders, could go to sleep. Mayday Parade had been a band for a little over ten years and they were from Tallahassee, Florida. Their genre wasn’t totally defined, but they played a combination of pop, punk, rock, and alternative. All in all, their music was at times very emotional and sad, but also catchy and relatable. It had been a long road for the five of them: Derek, Jake Bundrick, Alex Garcia, Jeremy “Cabbage” Lenzo, and Brooks Betts.

Derek had long brown hair and oftentimes a beard, so a lot of the fans viewed him as somewhat of a hippie. He never wore shoes onstage and rarely wore shoes other than flip flops. Unless it was bitterly cold, one would more than likely see him going barefoot. Jake was once a chubby, emo-haired kid, but over the years, he’d learned a lot about health, had bulked up quite a lot, and cut his chestnut brown hair short. He was the drummer and co-vocalist and had a dog named Poe at home that he loved dearly. Alex was the lead guitarist and he had once had a more alternative haircut, but now his black hair was cut short with long bangs that often flipped around while he played guitar. The other guys enjoyed teasing him because his favorite band was Led Zeppelin and he was what could only be described as a Led Zeppelin fanboy. Jeremy, the short-haired, bearded, bassist was almost always referred to as Cabbage. No one was quite sure why, either. All anyone knew was that the nickname originated from an old girlfriend he’d had in high school. Brooks, the melody guitarist, once had long, curly red hair, but once it got to be too much to handle, he chopped it off, breaking many a fangirls’ heart. He liked to be different and while just about everyone else in the band dressed similarly, he liked to wear flannel shirts and cowboy hats and boots. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t even that country of a person. 

Derek attended high school with both Cabbage and Brooks and they shared his love of music from day one. They met Alex and Jake soon after, who were in a band with a man named Jason Lancaster, and the six of them soon became Mayday Parade. However, shortly after their first CD, _A Lesson in Romantics,_ had been released Jason left the band for personal reasons. It was different without Jason and sure, they all missed him, but they adapted and became closer than they’d ever been. It was due to this that Derek couldn’t imagine losing a band member. 

He hadn’t known Kellin too well, but the two of them had been eerily similar. Both were the young lead singers of very successful bands in the alternative music scene, were playing for the umpteenth time on the Vans Warped Tour, and had young daughters at home. From what he’d known, Kellin Quinn had been a saint. So why in the world would someone want to murder him? 

Derek turned over in his bunk, listening to Jeremy, or Cabbage, as most of his friends referred to him, snored loudly in the bed above him. Their performance wasn’t until eight that evening, but they had to get up early. Not only for the many signings and interviews that Warped Tour entailed, but also for the press release that Kevin Lyman, the creator of Warped Tour, would be issuing today. All of the bands needed to be in attendance, not to answer questions, but to know what would become of the tour from this point on. 

Kevin was a good guy. He’d allowed Mayday Parade to play a few dates of the tour back in 2007 when no one knew who they were. If it wasn’t for him, the band might not have taken it off. However, Derek was fairly certain that tour was not to be cancelled this year. He found it to be a little disrespectful, not just to Kellin, but also to his band to his family, not to mention his fans. Sure, it might have been what Kellin wanted, but it was still difficult for Derek to truly understand. 

Pushing a few stray stands of long, light brown hair out of his face, his pushed the home button on his iPhone. Immediately, he was greeted with the smiling face of his daughter Grey Madison and he smiled. For sure, he’d have to call her when he woke up, that is, if he ever got to sleep. This year, Grey would be three years old and he couldn’t believe it. He’d never really believed in the idea that time flies, but from the day that he looked into Grey’s eyes, he’d learned that every little millisecond counted.  
He flopped back down, head flat on the pillow, eyes staring at the bunk above him. He yawned loudly and snapped his eyes shut. Agonizingly slowly, he drifted off to sleep, anything but anticipating the next day. 

***

“Have any suspect been named?” 

“No, not as of yet. However, not many details are being released right now. When we have more information, we will be sure to let you all know. But for the time being, it is important that everyone stay calm and respect Kellin’s family.” 

Derek sat between Jake and Brooks, two other members of Mayday Parade, in the back of the room in which Kevin was delivering his press release. 

“Will the tour continue?” someone with a huge yellow microphone asked, shoving it in Kevin’s face. 

Kevin nodded. “Yes, it is.”

Gasps echoed throughout the room and then a hushed murmur fell over. 

“But what about Sleeping With Sirens?” More than a few reporters shouted. 

Kevin waved his hand, shushing everyone. “Unfortunately, they will not be performing, out of respect for Kellin. However, also out of respect for Kellin, we will be completing the tour as scheduled. Last night, I had a conference with the other members and this is what they believed Kellin would have wanted. He loved the tour and he wouldn’t have wanted it cancelled.” 

“What precautions are you taking to ensure that this won’t happen again?” Another reporter asked. 

“We’re hiring more security,” Kevin replied, clearing his throat, “not only that, but we will have a strict curfew. Everyone must be back on their respective buses at exactly eleven o’clock, regardless if we are traveling or not. Not only that, but we will be doing extensive searches at the gate of Warped Tour every morning. No one is getting in unless we know exactly what they have on their person. And if they have anything that could remotely be considered dangerous, then we aren’t letting them in regardless if they’ve paid for their ticket or not.” 

A reporter pointed a microphone toward him and Kevin adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Won’t this cause problems?”

Kevin shrugged. “Perhaps, but the safety of the bands is my number one priority. I can’t allow anyone else to get hurt. Kellin was a dear friend of mine and this is such a tragedy. I cannot imagine it happening again.”

Derek folded his arms over his chest. He understood that Kevin only wanted to protect everyone, but this was a bit overboard. Some kids worked all summer for the money to attend the tour. There were only certain dates and many fans traveled long distances to go. There was absolutely no telling how much money some kids spent. And to imagine them not getting in because of something they wore? It was unthinkable to him. At this point, why even have the tour in the first place? The entire point of the tour was for those who were generally misunderstood and outcasts to have a place where they could truly be themselves. If they couldn’t be who they were at Warped Tour, where were they to go? 

“That will be enough for today,” Kevin announced, “any other questions will be answered at a later time.” 

The bands stood up and left. 

***

“This is our last song of the day!” Derek announced to the crowd in Pomona, California. “We’ve had a blast here and we promise we’ll come back and see you as soon as we can. This song is called “Jersey.” Sing along if you know it!” 

Derek and Jake began to sing the opening lyrics as the drums and melody guitar started up. Cabbage’s bass guitar cut in and he began to mouth the lyrics to a girl in the front row who had yet to sing along. She giggled and sang along with him. 

It was a great closing show. Brooks and Alex, the guitarists, were jumping around as they strummed their instruments. Derek was flipping his hair in every direction and swinging his microphone. Jake was beating the drums as hard as he could and singing his heart out. The crowd was engaged in every way. They were jumping around, screaming the lyrics, and bumping into one another. Ten or eleven people were crowd surfing and some had even tried to start a mosh pit, much to the amusement of the band. Mayday Parade was nowhere near a hardcore band, but because this was Warped Tour, someone was definitely going to try to start one at some point or another. Luckily, it was a small one. Mosh pits could be very dangerous and a couple years before, a girl had even died in one. 

As Derek sang the last lyric, a sad frown passed over his face. _So much death surrounds this tour lately, h_ e thought to himself. _Is it really even worth it?_

The last drumbeat sounded and their set was done. The crowd screamed and they all waved and thanked their fans, another successful show completed. 

“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!” they chanted. 

The five of them, laughing and sweating, trotted backstage. 

“That was a great first show, guys!” Tom Falcone, their twenty two year-old photographer congratulated. 

Jake, who was closest to him, slapped him into a hug. “Thanks, Turkey Tom!” 

“Gross!” Tom exclaimed, “you’re sweaty _and_ shirtless. Get off of me, you oaf.” With that, he brought his camera to his face and snapped a surprise picture of them. 

Brooks rolled his eyes. “Really, Tom? Now is not the time for a photo op.” 

Tom clicked through the camera, examining his work. “Every time is a great time for a photo op. But don’t worry, I took some really awesome ones during the set.” 

“You better have,” Jake joked, “you know that we can always find a new, _better_ photographer.” 

Tom rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, man.” He placed both hands on his camera and turned around. He went off toward the Full Sail tent, leaving the band alone. 

“I don’t know about you guys,” Jake said, “but I think I’m gonna head off to to the gym. No sense in wasting sweat, huh?” 

Brooks groaned. “That’s disgusting. Cabbage, Alex, and I are gonna go get food. You wanna come, Derek?” 

Derek shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m tired and I didn’t sleep well last night at all. I think I’m just gonna go back to the bus. Besides, you guys are probably going to eat burgers.” 

Cabbage laughed. “You thought right, man.” 

Derek had been a vegetarian for the vast majority of his life and while it didn’t bother him for his friends to eat meat around him, it still wasn’t the greatest experience. He’d just let them eat in peace. 

Derek turned away from his friends and began walking back toward their tour bus. It was a long walk, but with his headphones in, blaring Jimmy Eat World, it was pleasant and relaxing. Most of the kids were at shows so, luckily for him, he didn’t get ran over by hopefuls wanting a photo or autograph or both. 

He pulled the door open to the bus and let it slam. He slid his shoes off and slid into his bunk. 

And he slept. 

***

_How very silly it was for her to miss curfew. Juvenile, really. A mistake that a stupid, naïve teenager would make. Then again, she was immature, believing that just because there was a higher security team and a curfew that she’d be safe._

_He would have laughed if she hadn’t have been so pathetic._

_She was an easy kill. All he’d had to do was approach her. She knew him well, had even toured with him on Warped Tour before. She considered him a friend, and in retrospect, he considered her one, too._

_But she had to die._

_She’d greeted him with open arms, had expressed how hot it still was and how she needed to get to bed. He’d agreed and squeezed his fingers around her throat. By the time she realized what was happening, she’d already passed out and hit the floor. He felt a little bad, considering she’d been his friend._

_But she had to die._

***

Derek awoke the next morning to the sound of a police sirens. He’d thrown the covers off of himself and looked out the window. Three state trooper cars were lined up along the spot where the InVogue Records tent had been the day before. 

“Guys!” he exclaimed to his band members, “there’s police cars outside.” 

Brooks sat up groggily. “Huh?” 

Derek shook Jake awake, earning a loud yawn from him. “There’s police cars outside!” he repeated, louder this time. 

Alex shot up, pushing hair out of his face. “Was someone else killed?” 

“I don’t know,” Derek replied, “but I’m gonna go find out.” 

He threw on a T-shirt and slid on a pair of brown flip flips. He was still in his blue plaid pajama pants, but he didn’t care. He ran outside to see that a small crowd was already building, with officers pushing people back. 

He looked over to see that Vic Fuentes, the lead singer of Pierce the Veil, and one of Derek’s good friends, was standing with his hands jammed in his gray skinny jeans. He looked up at Derek with sadness first, then relief. 

“Derek!” he exclaimed, running over to him, “thank God it’s not you!” He threw his arms around him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, returning the hug. 

Vic’s eyes were welling up with tears. “Th-they won’t tell us who it is, j-just that they’re a lead singer and they’ve got brown hair. I-I could see it from where I was standing.” 

Derek’s heart sank. There were so many of his friends that it could be. “So…they — whoever it is — is d-dead?” 

Vic nodded. “Yeah, they are. Same way as K-Kellin.” He put his head down as tears began to spill from his eyes. 

Unlike Derek, Vic had been really close to Kellin. Kellin had even recorded a song with Pierce the Veil. Derek knew from experience that you had to greatly trust someone to allow them to perform with your band. That was why Vic was one of the only people to have ever collaborated with Mayday Parade. 

“I’m so sorry, man,” Derek said, squeezing his shoulder. 

Vic shook his head. “I can’t understand why this keeps happening. Why is someone doing this, Derek?” 

Derek didn’t know nor did he know what to tell his friend. “I don’t know, Vic. But here’s what I _do_ know. This needs to end — today. I’m gonna figure out what’s going on because it’s clear that no one else is.” 

Vic nodded. “But how? No offense, but you’re not a detective.” 

Derek shrugged. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to solve a murder. Haven’t you seen any movies? It’s always who you never expect that solves it.” 

“Or that committed it,” Vic noted.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. 

Just then, Alex Gaskarth, the lead singer of All Time Low passed by them with tears in his eyes. 

“Alex!” Derek called out, “you okay, man?” 

Alex shook his head slowly, revealing tears falling down his cheeks. “It was Tay.”

***

Taylor (or Tay, as most people referred to her as) Jardine, was the lead singer of We Are the In Crowd, one of the only female-fronted bands that was playing Warped Tour that year. Derek knew her really well, as they toured with them quite often. Not just on Warped Tour, but also on many of their other tours, such as the ‘So Devastating, It’s Unnatural Tour,’ that they’d played the spring before. 

“I can’t believe it,” Jake mourned, throwing his drumsticks down. “I can’t play today, guys. I just can’t.” 

Jake had been especially close to Tay and clearly, he was having a hard time with her death. 

“I know, man,” Alex said, plopping down beside him. “I’m shocked, too.” 

Cabbage just shook his head from where he sat across the room. 

“I’m upset, too,” Brooks said, cracking his knuckles, “but that doesn’t mean we should punish our fans, right?” 

Derek cleared his throat. “I honestly think the tour should just be cancelled.” 

The four of them gaped at him. 

“Wh-what?” Brooks asked, “Derek, you can’t seriously mean-”

“I do mean it,” Derek interjected, “it’s clear to me that no one cares about our safety. And I know that this tour is all about the fans, but if we’re _dying,_ then we can’t perform for the fans!” 

“We’ll be okay,” Alex said, “we’ll just stay together all the time. You know, like a buddy system.”

Cabbage and Brooks nodded in agreement. 

Derek shook his head, disgusted. “Really now? Jake, what about Tay? She was one of your very best friends.” 

Jake’s eyes flitted to the floor and he sighed. “I-I know.” 

“Are you really okay with continuing on a tour where she was _murdered?”_ Derek spat. “She didn’t just die, guys. Someone killed her! I don’t want that to happen to one of us. It would destroy me if something to one of you guys. You’ve been my best friends for almost ten years.” He swallowed hard and stared down at the floor. 

Jake jumped out of his seat and wrapped him in a hug. “We feel the same way, Derek. And honestly, if we could get out of it, I’d really want to, but we can’t. We signed a legal, binding contract to finish the tour and we have to ring true to it.” He squeezed Derek harder. “I know you're afraid,” he whispered, “but nothing’s gonna happen to us, I promise.” 

Derek shut his eyes. He sure hoped that Jake was right. 

***

Later that day, Derek found himself alone again, as everyone else had gone to have lunch. Again, the others had invited him to come with them, but he needed to be alone. Or that’s what he’d told his bandmates, anyway. In reality, he’d planned on kicking off his unofficial investigation of both Tay and Kellin’s murders. It would be hard to gather evidence on Kellin’s murder, seeing as though the body had already been taken to the coroner. Tay’s had, too, but they were still at the location in which she’d been killed. 

He’d wanted to talk to the remaining members of both Sleeping With Sirens and We Are the In Crowd badly, but he also knew that they all needed time. He couldn’t imagine losing anyone in his band and he couldn’t for the life of him know how they must feel. His band was like a family. They’d been together for over ten years and the four of them were his closest friends. He trusted them with his entire life and he knew that they felt the same way. Sure, they fought from time to time, but that was only due to the constant close contact that the five of them had to share when on the road. But to lose one of them? It was unthinkable. 

It didn’t make any sense at all to Derek. Tay and Kellin, for all he knew, anyway, were both decent, nice human beings. Neither of them committed crimes, did drugs, or even cursed a lot. He didn’t even know where to start or who to talk to. 

Sighing, he turned his attention to his phone, letting the image of Grey take away his sadness — if just for a moment. 

A loud crashing interrupted Derek’s thoughts. He jerked his head to the left and saw that there was a horde of people crowding around something on the Ernie Ball Stage. Before he could even think twice about it, his feet were racing toward the stage. He climbed the steps and ran over to the crowd. 

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, breathless. 

Kenny, a stage manager turned to him. “A spotlight fell on Joe.” 

“Joe?!” Derek exclaimed, “Joe Boynton?” 

Kenny nodded. “Yeah, it was-”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Derek heard, along with a groan. “I’m just a little lightheaded. Let me stand, guys.” 

Kenny cleared his throat. “Give him some room, everyone.” 

Derek watched as the crowd cleared and revealed Joe, sitting straight up, rubbing his head. His skinny legs were sprawled in front of him, his teeth were gritted, and his eyes shut tight. A lone tear was sliding down his cheek. He felt incredibly bad for the lead singer of Transit, whom he had toured with many times before. But luckily, he hadn’t been murdered. 

“What happened?” Derek found himself asking Torre Cioffi, one of Transit’s guitarists. 

Torre shrugged, pulling on his beanie. “I don’t know, man. We were just doing a sound check. We’d just started “Rest to Get Better” and out of nowhere, that big ass light just snapped and fell right on Joe. It happened so fast…I dropped my guitar and ran over there. Joe was yelling ‘ow’ and everybody was trying to help him.” 

“All right, everybody!” Kevin announced, running over to the crowd. “There’s nothing to see here. Get back to what you’re supposed to be doing. We’ll get Joe to the first aid tent.” 

Derek watched as a couple stagehands helped Joe to stand and hooked themselves under his arms to assist him to the tent. “You okay?” he mouthed to Joe as he passed him. 

Still holding his head, Joe nodded vigorously. “I’m fine, Derek. Don’t worry about me.” 

Derek nodded, swallowing hard. Joe wasn’t hurt, but it was still unnerving. For all he knew, it had just been a faulty wire. But it probably wasn’t. With the murders that had occurred, it was very likely that it had been done on purpose. 

Walking toward Mayday Parade’s tour bus, he began to roll over who had been at the scene of the accident in his mind. Every member of Transit had been present, as had a few stage hands. He himself had ran over to the stage when he’d heard the crash.  A handful of other people had ran to the stage, too. Therefore, he couldn’t very well label these people as subjects. Besides, if the spotlight’s cord _had_ been purposefully cut, the culprit had more than likely been backstage. 

Once he’d reached the bus, he shut his eyes, hoping to quell his pounding headache. He rubbed his temples, gritting his teeth, and he opened the door. Everyone but their bus driver (who was sleeping) was off doing other things. The TV that was always playing a football game or displayed the many Xbox 360 games that the band and their tour mates collectively owned and played for hours on end was shut off. The black screen glared at him and he shivered, even in the ninety degree weather. 

Suddenly, his bed felt very inviting. 

***

_It was hilarious how easy it was to kill his next victim. He’d seen him slip into his tour bus a little bit after the rest of his band had. He’d only had to knock. The face behind the door appeared a bit fearful at first, but welcomed him in soon after. He was lucky, not only for the fact that it was dark, but also because everyone else on the bus was asleep._

_This provided him more of a challenge. What a thrill it was._

_He hadn’t even bothered to hide his knife or to knock him out first. He’d just dove his knife into his chest. By the time his victim had realized that he was indeed the killer. His friend, someone he’d been on_ multiple _tours with, was the murder, he was dead. This knowledge died with him._

_Despite his immense desire to chop the man up into tiny, microscopic pieces, he knew that he had to get off of the bus. Getting caught was a risk that wasn’t worth taking and he was already pushing his luck enough as it was._

_He’d stepped off of the bus, only to run into another familiar face. The bearded man hadn’t even noticed him. He could have easily gotten away, never to have been seen. But he was on his list anyway, he might as well just get it over with._

_He waited until he was completely turned away from him to attack. He lodged his already blood-soaked knife into his back. A soft, muffled cry was uttered from his mouth as he hit his knees. This gave him the perfect opportunity to go to town on his victim._

_Slowly, he hooked his thumb into his victim’s mouth, holding his lip in place. With his other hand, he slid his blade into the mouth, slicing his top lip clean off. The man lying on his back, bleeding profusely in pain, cried out again and began to squirm, longing to get away._

_Realizing this, he took his knife and dove down, ineptly slicing through the fleshy throat. The line wasn’t straight, but jagged and angry, gushing blood onto his face and hair. That was okay. He’d hose off later._

_Easily, he chopped off the bottom lip and tossed it aside. He smiled, curling his gloved fingers tightly around the silver handle of the knife. He reached into the mouth again, grasping the limp, pink tongue between his fingertips. In his other hand, he brought down the knife and and pierced through the tongue. He unfurled the fingers of the right hand and placed the tongue neatly in the palm._

_Taking a deep breath, he stood up and admired his work. Perhaps not as brutal and gruesome as Kellin, but he was too exhausted to care._

_He needed to get to bed and he needed to do it now._

***

_Two more Warped Tour performers were murdered last night. Alex Gaskarth of All Time Low was found dead by a single stab wound to the chest in the floor of his tour bus. Jeremy McKinnon of A Day to Remember was killed not far from the bus, with a stab wound in the back and his throat slit open. Similar to the first two murders, the lips and tongue of McKinnon were sliced off. Gaskarth’s chest wound was the only sign of assault. In retaliation to these four murders, Kevin Lyman, the founder of the tour, called for more security. We’ve been told that they will be giving a statement, regarding their plans soon. Stay tuned for more information._

Derek turned off the television, bile rising in his throat. He shook his head, tears in his eyes. He’d been really good friends with Alex and a huge fan of Jeremy. It was remarkable, really. The killer was really stepping up his game. All Time Low and A Day to Remember were two of the most popular and famous bands in their genre. Fans would be devastated to the point where Derek wouldn’t be surprised of a national uproar. In all honesty, if he were a kid during this time, he would have reacted the same way. 

He thought back to when he was a teenager attending Warped Tour and excitedly awaited seeing bands like Blink-182, Green Day, Jimmy Eat World, Jack’s Mannequin, Fall Out Boy, and many others. He couldn’t even begin to envision the lead singers of _any_ of those bands getting murdered. In all honesty, he was _done_ with Warped Tour. 

He scoped out the rest of the bus. Alex and Jake were whispering to each other, Cabbage was staring almost too intently at his phone, Brooks was slowly taking off his signature cowboy boots he wore onstage, Tom was scrolling through his high dollar camera, and Tyler was folding shirts. Their manager was at a meeting with Kevin Lyman, Warped Tour producers, and other band managers. Their bus driver was snoozing away in his bunk. 

Suddenly, he stood up, sliding his brown flip flops off. “Well, are you guys satisfied?” 

He was greeted with blank stares until finally, Alex asked the question everyone was yearning to ask. “What the hell do you mean, Derek?” He flipped his dyed black bangs out of his eyes. 

Derek shook his head. “I _told_ you guys that this was gonna happen. Kellin, Taylor, and now Alex _and_ Jeremy are dead. They’re _dead_ , guys! As in, their lives are _over_. They’re _never_ coming back, they’re gone literally forever! I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, but I’m absolutely sick of it. For good, innocent people have been killed and you know what? I’m done. I am so done. I don’t even care about this stupid fucking tour anymore.” 

Angrily, he slammed back down on the sofa, tears beginning to pour down his cheeks. Brooks, who was sitting the closest to him, put his arms around him. “It’s scary,” he agreed. “This is probably the worst possible thing to have happened to our genre. But, don’t you see that quitting, leaving the tour behind for good, won’t change anything at all? Derek, what the killer wants more than anything at all is to make us _all_ quit.” 

Jake nodded, scooting closer to the two of them. “If we stop the tour, he wins. And all of our fans lose. I mean, yeah, we’ve lost four amazing lives that will never be replaced, _but_ that’s what this guy wants. He wants to get inside our heads and for whatever reason, he wants to sabotage this tour that we’ve loved for our entire lives!” 

“We can’t let him take that away from us,” Cabbage muttered. 

Derek swallowed, scrubbing his tears away. “I think I still need to get away, guys.” With that, Derek headed off to his bunk to pack. He was headed back to Tallahassee, regardless of the consequences. 

***

“Daddy!” Grey called, running to the door and into her father’s arms. 

Derek wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Hey Roo,” he said, calling her by the nickname he’d started using from the moment she was born. 

He shut the door to his house and sighed, carrying Grey farther into the living room. He looked up to see his girlfriend, Lauren, approaching him. 

She shot him a confused glance before coming over and kissing him. “What are you doing home?” she asked, quizzically. “There’s still a lot of dates left, am I wrong?” 

He shook his head. “No, you’re not wrong. I’m just…Lauren, I’m so done with it.” 

Just then, Lauren’s other daughter, Bailey, ran into the room. 

“Hey Bailey!” Derek said, hugging her, too. She giggled and jumped down, seeking out her blond sister.

“Come on Grey, let’s go play Frozen!” She tugged on Grey’s hand. 

Derek smiled as he watched Grey and Bailey bolt from the room. 

“Still in the Frozen phase, I see,” Derek pointed out, still grinning. 

Lauren nodded. “Of course. But babe, why are you here?” 

Derek threw his shoulder bag onto the couch. “You’re not happy to see me, Lauren?” He feigned hurt by putting his hand on his chest and shutting his eyes tightly. 

She shook her head, cracking a smile. “Exactly the opposite. I’m _ecstatic_ to have you home. You know my heart is only full when everyone I love is home. However, you _love_ Warped Tour. You always have and you always will. Even more so, you love playing music, your fans, and playing music for your fans. What’s going on, Derek?” 

Derek sat down on the sofa and put his face his in his hands. Lauren sat down beside him, wrapping her arms around him. “Talk to me,” she whispered. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Kellin,” he said, “And Tay and Alex _and_ Jeremy. All of these amazing performers and they’re gone. Dead. Forever, Lauren. And _no one_ cares! All that Kevin Lyman cares is that he makes his money. All of the stagehands and other bands just want to get it over with and get their paychecks. And hell, even the other guys in Mayday don’t want to let the fans down. And I’ve never been okay with it, but I tried to just let it go, let the police handle it and just do my thing, finish the tour, you know? But people _keep_ dying! And I just can’t take it anymore.” 

Lauren squeezed him tighter. “I know, Derek. I know. I’ll tell you what. You take your shoes off, I’ll cook you something good, and you hang out with the girls. Forget everything bad that’s going on. Tomorrow morning, you can decide what to do. You just need a break, babe.”

Derek sighed as she kissed his forehead. “It’s all going to be okay. Just chill out for the day. For me, Derek.” 

He shut his eyes as Lauren tiptoed out of the room. 

His headache never subsided. 

***

“Where the hell are you?!” Kevin Lyman screamed into the other end of Derek’s cell phone the next morning. 

Groggily, he replied with, “huh?” 

“Sanders, you’ll get your ass out of bed and on a plane if you know what’s good for you!” Kevin spat. 

Derek paused for a moment. “Who said I’m coming back, Kevin?” 

Kevin ignored him. “I should ban you _and_ your goddamn band from my tour for this. But seeing as though I’m running way out of headliners. This is your first and _only_ warning.” 

Derek sighed. “You’re not helping the bands. So why why the hell should I help you?” 

Kevin groaned. “It’s not me that you should be worried about. It’s your _band_. Your fans. That family of yours. I could sue your ass for breach of contract.” 

Derek chuckled. “What jury would make me pay a fine for trying to protect myself? You’re full of shit and you know it.” 

Kevin was silent for a moment before shouting, “fine! Have it your way. But how do you think your band’s gonna feel if you’re gone for the majority of the tour. They won’t be able to play without you.” 

Derek thought hard about what Kevin said. Mayday Parade was famous for their dual vocals, but he was their primary vocalist. Not only that, but he was their piano player. Jake and Cabbage could probably handle the vocals, but he wasn’t sure that they’d be able to play certain songs that required piano without him, with the need of the guitars, bass, and drums. He took a deep breath. “I’ll be there soon. But I’m not doing this for you.” 

Kevin chuckled. “I knew you’d come around. 

Derek hung up on him. 

***

On the plane ride to Albuquerque, Derek listened to the news on his phone. He was surprised when he heard Kevin’s voice. 

“What can we expect to happen now?” A reporter asked. 

“Well,” Kevin said, “we go on. Luckily, we woke up this morning to no bodies and no missing people. I call that a success!” 

There was some chuckling at his response. Needless to say, Derek was disgusted and considered just turning on music. But something else caught his attention. 

“This tour is as important to me as it is the fans. And it’s crazy to say, because we’ve lost so many people, but we’ve had triple the attendance of last year’s tour.” 

“That is strange,” someone replied, “You’d think the fans would be too afraid or upset to attend.” 

Kevin chuckled softly. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s made it all the more interesting for them.” 

This was the moment Derek realized that Kevin Lyman was the murderer. 

***

As soon as his taxi had dropped him off at the venue, Derek raced to Mayday Parade’s bus. Luckily for him, they were all there. Everyone else, however, were off doing their own things. 

He threw the door open and ran inside. Jake and Cabbage were watching a soccer game and Alex and Brooks were strumming on their guitars. 

“Guys, guys!” he exclaimed, breathlessly, resting his hand on one of the sofas. 

“‘Bout time you showed up,” Brooks muttered. 

Derek nodded. “I know and I’m so sorry about that, guys. But listen, I-”

“No, _you_ listen,” Brooks spat, “you’ve been gone for a day and a half. You left without telling _anyone_ where you were going. And to top it off, you got _all_ of us in hot water with Kevin. That isn’t okay, man.” 

Derek sighed. “I know, I know. And I’m really sorry. I should have told you guys where I was going and I should have answered my phone. That’s totally my fault and I take full responsibility of it. But guys, I know what’s going on! I know who’s killing everyone and why!” 

He was surprised by the worried, exchanged glances that the other four members of the band exchanged. It was silent for a few awkward seconds. 

“Wh-what’s the matter?” Derek asked, a bit afraid that he’d done something wrong.

Jake spoke up after that. “It’s nothing, man. I just…who do you think did it?”

Derek sighed. “Kevin. Warped ticket sales have _tripled_ since the murders, guys. _Tripled_! And besides, he’s done jack shit to protect the bands. It’s truly like he doesn’t care…because he doesn’t!” 

“That’s…it makes a lot of sense,” Cabbage agreed tentatively. 

Derek nodded. “Exactly. That’s why we need to go get the police, right?” 

Alex stood up. “Wait!” 

Derek frowned. “For what? We can’t let anyone else die, Alex.” 

“Well, no one died last night,” Brooks stammered, running a hand through his hair. “When you were gone with Lauren and the girls, everything was okay. Maybe he’s done. Maybe he’s gotten enough publicity!” 

Derek shook his head, his hair flying in different directions. “That’s insane! We can’t chance it, guys. There are too many lives at stake!” 

Jake grabbed Derek’s arm before he could move. “Don’t be hasty, dude. We don’t have _any_ evidence at all. You can’t just go accusing people of things. You’ve gotta have facts. You watch _Criminal Minds_ and _Law & Order_, you know how this works.” 

Derek jerked his arm away. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?! You act like you don’t want to tell anyone what’s going on. It’s so damn clear that it’s Kevin and you guys won’t let me _near_ a cop!”

The other four of them stayed silent. Derek watched as their eyes trailed back and forth from each other and the floor. Suddenly, Jake nodded at Brooks and he took a deep breath. 

“Don’t you wonder _why_ there were no murders the night you were gone?’ Brooks asked quietly. 

Derek was surprised, to say the least. “N-no, I just…I assumed it was because two people were killed the night before.” His head began to pound mercilessly and he pressed his palms to his forehead. 

_Don’t tell them anything! Don’t listen to them! They’re just trying to hurt you!_

_It’s okay, go ahead. Let your guard down. I’ll take care of_ everything _._

Derek’s legs went numb and he landed hard on the floor behind him. Alex and Cabbage ran over to him and knelt down beside him. 

“Derek! Derek, can you hear us?”

“Wake up, dude. Come on, please!” 

Derek’s eyes fluttered open, but behind them, he saw images of blood, of torn flesh, of destruction. 

He shot up quickly, ripping his hands through his hair. “What the hell is wrong with me?!” He grabbed Cabbage’s shirt and yanked on him. “Cabbie…help! Help me, what’s going on?!” 

“It’s okay,” Alex said, coming over to them. “Shh, Derek, everything’s all right. This happens from time to time, but you’re okay.” 

Jake followed him. “It’s not you, Derek. It’s just that Drake and Drew are trying to come out. But you won’t let them, not now. I know you won’t.” 

“Dr-Drake and Drew?” Derek asked, “who are they?” 

Brooks sighed. “Derek, have you ever heard of ‘Dissociative Identity Disorder’?” 

“What?” Derek asked, blinking at the seemingly bright light on the ceiling. 

Cabbage stepped in. “It’s sometimes called having split personalities. It’s like…you’re you, but you also have other people living inside of your head and they try to come out and live, too. It’s from traumatic experiences as a child. The other ones exist to help you get over your trauma.” 

“And you, my friend,” Jake said, “have this condition.” 

“B-but I’ve never had trauma!” Derek protested, tears falling down his cheeks. “I’m not insane and I don’t have other personalities!” 

“You do,” Alex replied, “and you have had trauma, too. We can’t discuss it because Drake may try to come out. He’s never tried to hurt us before, but you never know. He’s probably the one killing people.” 

“Shut up!” Derek exclaimed, cupping his face in his hands, “you’re all crazy! You don’t know what you’re talking about! Leave me the hell alone!” 

“It’s _okay_ ,” Brooks said, “we’ve all always known and so does Lauren. Look, Drew and Drake only come out when really, really bad things happen. Like, for instance, do you remember at our last festival when we got cancelled from playing the Main Stage because Avenged Sevenfold ended up making it? That was your trigger.” 

Derek stayed silent, breathing hard and hiding his face. 

Cabbage continued where Brooks left off. “Drake is the violent one, but he knows not to hurt anyone you love because Drew is the really powerful one. He’s what psychiatrists call the gatekeeper. He does everything he can to keep you safe and protected.” 

“What does any of that have to _me_ being the murderer?!” Derek demanded. 

“Nothing,” Jake replied, “because you’re not the one committing the murders.  We’re ninety percent sure that Drake is the one that does most of the killing, which describes the rage factor. But Drew is cutting off their lips and tongues to ensure that we never get replaced again.” 

Alex nodded. “Because he knows how much that upset you and how much you worried about our future as a band and how you were going to help your family. We know how much you were banking on that performance, after all, it _was_ huge. But we knew that there’d be other and better endeavors for us. Drew is making sure of that.” A sick smile passed over his face. Jake, Brooks, and Cabbage shared that smile, too. 

An eerie shiver ran down Derek’s spine at this, but he kept asking what he needed to know. “Well…when does this happen? When do I become Drew or Drake?” 

Brooks answered that question. “Remember how tired you’ve been? How many headaches you’ve had? That was because the others needed to get out. With you asleep, your mind’s at rest, which gives the other personalities a chance to escape. You’re trapped in your mind, but you don’t know it, because you’re sleeping. Have you had nightmares?” 

Derek nodded. “Y-yeah, but I often do…,” he trailed off, realizing that this was due to his other personalities’ behaviors. 

“That’s why,” Brooks nodded, “your other personalities were off killing people.” 

Derek swallowed hard. “You guys knew about this? And you didn’t tell me? You let Tay and Alex die, _our friends_? And Kellin and Jeremy? You let them die, too?” 

Cabbage shrugged. “We didn’t know at first. And when we realized it, there was no way for us to know who they were going to kill next. We just had to deal with it. It’s unfortunate, sure. But hey, Mayday Parade’s the biggest band playing Warped Tour now…well, besides Pierce the Veil.” 

Alex chuckled. “Not for long.” 

“Yeah,”Jake laughed, “you hear that, guys?” He called to the personalities in Derek’s mind. “Go get Vic next!” 

Derek was disgusted. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you guys? I’m killing people and you think it’s funny? It’s not funny at all! My girlfriend and four best friends knew all along about my mental disorder and they never told me! You’re all revolting! I’m…I don’t want to be a part of this band anymore!” 

Brooks sighed. “Don’t be like that, Derek. We've gotten so much more popular ever since your other personalities started showing up. We’ve made a hell of a lot more money than we ever did, we’ve got more loving, adoring fans, and hell, our sound’s even gotten better. We’re more confident than ever. Do you really want to take that away from us?” 

_Don’t do it, Derek. You’re happy, they’re happy. No one will ever suspect you._

_More importantly, I can kill as many people as I want with_ no one _knowing! It’s a win/win situation._

_Think about Grey. About Lauren and Bailey and your mom and dad? How would they feel if you were to go to prison? You can’t put them through that._

_Don’t make me give up the taste of blood, man. I’m addicted._

Derek took a deep breath and looked around at his fellow bandmates, his four best friends in the world. He loved them all so much and he knew that they loved him, too.

A huge, wide grin spread across his face. “Fuck it. Let’s just go play the next town.” 

 

 

FIN

 

 


End file.
